


Hurt Me Hurt You

by Fangirling_FTW



Series: Destiel One-Shots [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Blood, Blood Kink, Cas Heals Dean, Established Relationship, M/M, Might edit them later, Mild Painplay, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Smut, Sort Of, Wounds, idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW
Summary: He knows Sam is right, Cas is gonna be pissed at him, but he figures maybe he can talk him down before it gets bad.He doesn’t get the chance.  As soon as he turns on the light in his room Cas is there staring daggers at him and full of that weird holy wrath thing that Dean finds both terrifying and...okay very hot.“Cas, what-“  Cas steps into his space and cuts off his words with a scathing look.“You were supposed to wait for me.”  Cas’ voice is low, dipped into that dangerous territory where Dean starts to wonder if he’s actually in danger of being pummeled by an angel.  And not in the sexy way.





	Hurt Me Hurt You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michi27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/gifts).



> idek what this is, but someone posted a thread on twitter that got my brain running and this happened. No graphic violence or anything but if anyone is squicked by blood maybe don’t read this? *nervous laugh*
> 
> Anyway enjoy!!

Dean’s getting too old for this shit.

He’s currently sprawled out on the floor of a dingy house with a dead werewolf on his left and a second on his right. The place smells of mold and rotten wood and not for the first time Dean wonders when they’ll finally stumble upon a nest or a pack that lives in something _other_ than squalor. He wipes at the blood oozing down his forehead before it gets into his eye, not even sure if it’s his. He thinks he can walk but his left leg is throbbing like a bitch and is arguing with his brain when he tries to get up. Sam stumbles to his side from the other room, right eye swollen shut and a couple gashes on his left arm where his flannel is torn to shreds.

“Lookin good, Sammy.” Sam’s well enough to roll his remaining eye at Dean which Dean takes as a good sign.

“Shut up.” Sam gets a grip on Dean with his right arm, and with timing practiced over years of hunting together they manage to get Dean to his feet. His leg gives a loud throb in protest and then goes silent. Small victories. “Christ, look at you,” Sam mutters, leaning in to check the gash on Dean’s forehead.

“I’m fine.” Dean shoves him away with a grimace. 

“You look like a character in a bad slasher movie.” Sam’s worried but there’s a laugh in his voice.

“Not all mine. Last swing hit an artery or some shit. Wolf went off like a geyser.” He starts to stumble towards the door. 

“You sure you’re okay-“ Dean cuts Sam off with a wave.

“Let’s just get this cleaned up and get home.” Sam shrugs with a wince, holding his left arm as he follows behind Dean.

Cleaning up is easier said than done but they manage to dispose of the bodies and cover their tracks, the two of them packing up the Impala and making the short drive back to the bunker. Luckily the hunt was fairly local, Dean is desperate for a shower since every part of him is sticky with blood and dirt. He’s going to have to detail the car after this, too, he and Sam are making a mess of the leather seat. Not to mention the _smell_.

“We’re getting old.” Dean huffs a laugh at Sam’s words.

“I know, man.” Dean adjusts his grip on the wheel. “Used to be booze and chicks after a hunt like this, battle scars and all.”

“Yeah,” Sam snorts. “Now it’s booze and bandages.” Sam picks at his torn sleeve. “You know, Cas is gonna be pissed.”

“He’s always pissed about something,” Dean sighs, waving away Sam’s concern. 

“No, he’s always pissed at you.” Sam’s smirk is much too smug for Dean’s liking and he scowls at his brother.

“It’s his own damn fault, he knew what he was getting into.”

“Yeah, but Dean you gotta admit, this time he definitely has every right to be.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Sam smiles but falls quiet, and now Dean is sort of wishing the drive back was just a bit longer. Sam’s right, Cas is _not_ going to be happy.

  


They stumble inside the bunker an hour later to find Mary and Jack reading in the library. It’s surreal still, having a family to come home to, but Dean hopes he never gets used to it. Though he’ll never admit it to anyone he savors the warm surprise that spreads through his system every single time. As soon as Mary looks up and sees them she jumps up and rushes towards the stairs with obvious worry in her eyes.

“Oh my god, what happened?” 

“You should see the other guys,” Dean jokes. Mary just gives him a _look_. “Hey, he’s worse than I am,” Dean deflects, pointing at Sam. Dean tries not to smile as Mary turns to fuss over Sam’s arm, Sam doing his best to scowl at Dean through his injuries. Sometimes it’s hard for Dean to see Mary as his mother, and times like this it couldn’t be more obvious. There’s something to be said for her maternal instinct.

“Did you boys even try to avoid getting hurt?!” she scolds.

“Mom, I’m fine,” Sam insists. “Honestly, it wasn’t a bite or a scratch, I just got caught on some wood is all.” He pulls his arm away but she won’t be deterred.

“Well you’re gonna need help cleaning that before it gets infected,” she insists. “Come on, infirmary.” Sam sends Dean a pleading look as Mary leads him down the hallway by his good arm, but Dean just shrugs with a chuckle as Sam turns the corner. Jack is still sitting at the table watching everything, and now he’s looking at Dean curiously.

“Are you injured, Dean?” he asks. Dean looks down at the mess he makes.

“Nah, nothing a little shower and a nap won’t fix.” Jack’s face relaxes into a smile as Dean tosses his bag on the table. Dean regrets that decision as a pain shoots up his arm from the movement. 

“Oh, Castiel wanted to see you. I believe he’s waiting for you in his room.” Jack smiles, proud of himself for remembering the message. Dean manages a smile back even when inside he’s grimacing. Of course this would be the _one time_ Cas would be home waiting for him.

“Thanks. I’ll go see what he wants.” Dean heads for the side hallway, taking a few steps before looking back. “Oh, when Mom is finished with Sam, can you ask her about what we’re doing for dinner?” Jack nods and Dean turns for his room, wanting to at least shuck his bloody clothes before checking in with Cas. He knows Sam is right, Cas is gonna be pissed at him, but he figures maybe he can talk him down before it gets bad.

He doesn’t get the chance. As soon as he turns on the light in his room Cas is there staring daggers at him and full of that weird holy wrath thing that Dean finds both terrifying and...okay _very_ hot.

“Cas, what-“ Cas steps into his space and cuts off his words with a scathing look.

“You were supposed to wait for me.” Cas’ voice is low, dipped into that dangerous territory where Dean starts to wonder if he’s _actually_ in danger of being pummeled by an angel. And not in the sexy way.

“Look, Sam was here, it was just a couple wolves, no big deal-“ Dean tries.

“A couple?!” Dean swallows hard. “Dean it was a whole _pack.”_ Cas’ eyes are slits, the blue barely visible but still shining through them. “I told you there were at least 15 members living there.”

“You did-“

“And you agreed when I told you that you’d need some backup. For which I offered my services.”

“Cas, we got wind of another body, we couldn’t just sit around-“

“Twelve hours, Dean,” Cas spits. “You could have waited _twelve_ hours and I would have been here. Then maybe you wouldn’t have so arrogantly and _stupidly_ gotten the crap beat out of you.”

“Sam and I handled it,” Dean snaps back, surprising himself. “We’ve been doing this for a long fucking time, Cas.” Dean gestures at the blood. “And maybe if you weren’t tearing me a new one you’d realize most of this shit ain’t mine.” Cas’ eyes, still narrowed in anger, track over his body and the different injuries. Dean tries not to shiver under their assessing gaze. Cas taking a step back to get a good look at all of him draws Dean’s attention to the small mirror on his wall. What he sees startles him.

He looks like a fucking serial killer.

He’s soaked in blood from head to waist, _completely_ covered, with darker splotches on his forehead and his arm where it mingled with his own injuries. He glances down and finally notices the huge red stain on his injured leg, and ok maybe he can see why Cas is so freaked out right now seeing as Dean looks like he got dunked upside down in a pool of blood.

“You’re so, so…” Dean’s haze is drawn away from the macabre image he makes and back to Cas. He can see Cas’ jaw muscles clenching beneath his skin, and in his balled fists Dean sees his fury starting to break. After all these years he knows most of Cas’ tells, seeing as he’s been the cause for almost all of them at some point.

“Stupid? Crazy? Cocky?” Dean offers with a wink. Cas’ face is still angry but his hands relax, and Dean knows he won this round. Who knew an angel would be this susceptible to Dean’s flirty charm? Dean sure as hell didn’t. Castiel’s eyes soften just a little, and with a deep breath he seems to come to a decision.

“So _human_ .” The word is uttered on a sigh and in a step Cas finishes closing the distance between them. Dean has just enough presence of mind to kick his bedroom door shut and then Cas’ hands are on him, slowly running over his blood soaked jacket before tucking inside it to push it off Dean’s shoulders. “So... _fucking_ human.” They’re standing close, so close Dean can feel the damp heat of Cas’ breath when he continues to talk. “So resilient, and yet so fragile. You believe yourself invincible yet the smallest thing can cause so much damage.” Dean would never admit it but he loves it when Cas gets into this mood and starts to wax poetic about human existence. Those nights? Those are some of the _best_ nights.

“I’m sorry we didn’t wait, Cas.” Cas doesn’t answer but continues to divest Dean of his bloody shirts, the red staining his chest as well where it leaked through onto his skin, thicker rivulets running in lines where it missed his shirt and dripped down behind his collar. Cas’ hands are covered in the sticky blood now but he doesn’t seem to notice, shucking his trench and his own jacket. Dean notices some of the blood transferred to Cas’ crisp white shirt as he was undressing, a couple smears on the chest and sleeves. Dean swallows hard, no idea why the fuck that has his temperature spiking but in no way complaining.

“After everything, _everything_ we’ve been through, don’t I deserve some consideration?” Cas’ voice sounds angry again as his fingers not so gently explore the bruises on Dean’s ribs. He gasps in pain. Cas ignores him. “You and your brother seem to want to continually and recklessly throw yourselves into these situations. And I have to pick up the pieces when I would rather keep them from breaking altogether.” Cas’ blood covered hands and cuffs move to the cut on Dean’s arm, prodding at it to test how bad it is. Dean grunts in pain as he feels fresh blood start to drip slowly from the wound but Cas’ hands don’t stop their exploration, moving up to the cut on his forehead. “I keep thinking that after we, to use your phrase, got the sticks out of our asses you might change.” Dean watches as a drop of his own blood flows down Cas’ wrist, coming to a stop against the white fabric of his shirt around mid forearm. He’s starting to feel light headed, unsure what Cas is doing but lost in the mixed sensations of pain and lust.

“I’m sorry,” he pants. Cas’ eyes finally meet his, that small spark of angelic arrogance and fury that fascinated Dean in the beginning shining bright. Now that Cas has finished checking Dean over and confirming for himself that Dean is indeed alive and relatively well, another plan seems to take hold of his mind.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.” _Oh._ There’s a promise in those words and Dean doesn’t know if he whimpers from his injuries or from the twitch in his pants but the next thing he knows Cas is _claiming_ his mouth. Regardless of the blood that stains his skin, both his and not, Cas is _ruthless_ in his claim. Dean stumbles back into his wall, letting Cas literally ravage his mouth while his hands rest helplessly on Cas’ shoulders. A new pain sparks as Cas bites a little too hard at his lips, but he figures a little more blood at this point won’t make a difference. He starts to feel a bit needy in spite of Cas’ weight on his injuries and the dull ache they cause, mostly because another ache is starting in his gut.

Cas gives him a break to breathe, pulling back to meet Dean’s eyes. His white shirt is now covered in red splotches, his face too around his lips, and when his lips part slightly Dean can see some in his mouth. Dean’s heart is racing, adrenaline pumping hard as Cas’ tongue darts out across his own lip to wipe up a drop of Dean’s fresh blood. The coppery taste tingles on Dean’s lips, his tongue mirroring Cas’ motion and Dean watches as Cas’ eyes darken further. Cas is still tense, a tightly coiled mass of muscle that can literally crush Dean into dust. Yet for all his talk of humans being fragile, what he sees in Cas’ eyes shows him that his angel is just as ready to break.

“Cas, I get it.” Cas’ gaze narrows but Dean keeps talking. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid.” They hang in the silence for a moment, blood dripping down Dean’s chin as Cas’ eyes bore into him. “We knew going into this, Cas. It’s part of the whole package.” Cas’ eyes drop to Dean’s mouth, his hand rising to draw his bloody thumb across Dean’s lip.

“You’re so stupid sometimes,” he breathes. “You don’t think, you just…” Cas trails off as Dean reaches between them to undo his tie, pulling the now blood stained satin out from around his neck and dropping it to the floor.

“C’mon, Castiel,” Dean lobs his full name at him as a challenge and he watches with barely contained excitement as Cas’ eyes flash, “I thought you said I’d be sorry.” 

He knows Cas is aware that Dean’s dangling bait in front of him to spur him into action but right now it doesn’t seem to matter. Cas lunges in for another bruising kiss, hands gripped tight in Dean’s bloody hair as he tilts his head to the angle he wants. Dean starts to get lost in the assault, only vaguely aware of the taste of his own blood still lingering from the bite on his lip, lost instead in the taste of Cas. The throbbing from his injuries and the disgusting, sticky feeling of the blood on his skin fade to the background as well, everything being lost to the angel.

Dean tugs at Cas’ ruined shirt, unable to get to the buttons where Cas is pressed against him, but Cas gets the message. He lifts off Dean just long enough to yank the fabric off and toss it away, a wonderful flood of heat suffusing Dean’s system as Cas presses skin to skin. Ignoring the werewolf blood Dean is literally covered in, Cas’ mouth goes to work on his neck, biting and bruising possessively as he tugs at Dean’s belt. Everything should hurt, his body has been through hell tonight, but every touch that lights up his nerves with pain sparks a hot pleasure under his skin and Dean’s lost in the sensations, utterly at Cas’ mercy.

He doesn’t really notice Cas moving them to the bed until his back hits the mattress and Cas tugs off the rest of his bloody clothes, boots and all. The gash on his leg sticks to the denim as the pants come off and he cries out, the blood that was starting to scab over dripping down his calf. Cas is hovering over him where he’s kneeling between Dean’s legs, taking up his whole field of vision as his hand slides over the wound. Dean grunts, a weird mixture of pain and arousal as Cas glowers at him.

“You’re so reckless,” Cas growls. Warmth spreads from Cas’ touch and Dean knows he’s healing the wound but from the pain that lingers when Cas’ hand moves away he knows he isn’t finished. He simply stopped the bleeding. Cas’ hand, now slick with Dean’s blood, slides over his abdomen and the bruises there. This shouldn’t be so fucking _hot_ but every new smear of blood has Dean’s heart racing and his groin throbbing.

“How about you, huh?” Dean shoots back, gasping as Cas lowers his head to suck a new bruise into his sternum. “You ran off last week to take on that demon boy band, _ngh._ ” Cas has moved to Dean’s nipples, exploring with his tongue and a little bit of suction, just how he knows Dean loves it.

“I’m still an angel.” Cas’ words hum against his skin and Dean shivers, his hands sliding into Cas’ hair. “This time you said you’d _wait_ , you shouldn’t even be this injured, you ass.” Cas in his annoyance bites down on Dean’s nipple at the same time he thrusts his clothed hips into Dean, the fabric of his dress slacks pressing into Dean’s naked crotch. The friction pulls a moan from Dean and a self satisfied hum from Cas, who continues his assault on Dean’s skin. Dean’s never sure which way things will go between them, as far as who’s being fucked, neither of them have a preference usually and it just depends on the mood. Tonight it seems Cas is revved up and ready to _take_ and Dean isn’t complaining. He isn’t ashamed to say he likes it rough and he knows Cas is able to be practically _violent_ sometimes when fucking him. The thought sends a pulse through his cock and he moans, Cas taking the sound as further encouragement.

Ignoring Dean’s injuries Cas practically bends him in half to reach the end table, hooking Dean’s legs over his shoulders as he works to grab the bottle of lube. Cas settles back on his heels and the only warning Dean gets is a swipe of slick fingers against his entrance, then Cas’ finger is inside of him. He cries out at the intrusion and Cas starts in on his prostate without any hesitation, the pain/pleasure spiking into something _glorious._ Cas huffs angrily against Dean’s leg where it’s sitting next to his cheek, an impatient noise, and fumbles with his own belt and slacks without stopping his other hand from fucking into Dean.

Dean realizes what’s about to happen just before Cas sits up to align himself with Dean’s entrance. His hands fly up to the headboard to anchor himself just as Cas slides inside him in one smooth thrust. He’s not as prepped as he could be and the intrusion burns, but he’s bottomed enough lately that his body adjusts quickly, especially at the sight Cas makes as he hovers over him, still half dressed and eyes dangerous with all sorts of lusty emotions.

He will never, _ever_ get used to seeing Cas like this. An angel of the lord reduced to hedonistic want...for _him._

Cas starts to move with intention, long deliberate thrusts that steal Dean’s breath, quickly picking up speed so Dean never gets it back. Cas’ words devolve into variations on _Dean_ and _mine_ and Dean can’t really get out anything coherent, not the way Cas is fucking him like he’s running out of time. It’s brutal even for them and Dean’s injuries aren’t helping, Cas continually touching them as they break open just to get the bleeding to stop. The press of Cas’ zipper into the skin of his ass is starting to get uncomfortable, but Cas makes up for it with the hickeys and bruises he leaves over Dean’s neck and shoulders. Claiming him, marking him everywhere the wolf blood touched him.

In spite of the roughness and the bloody mess they’ve both turned into, Dean still feels cherished, wanted, _loved,_ and it’s a sensation he’s still adjusting to, even after the few years they’ve been sleeping together. Cas doesn’t do anything half assed, when he makes love to Dean it’s _pure_ , when he fucks Dean raw it’s animalistic. Cas gives his everything to Dean every time, pleasure and the sweet, good kind of pain, and Dean loves it.

It helps that he loves Cas. Cas whose frustration is driving him hard right now, straining the limits of the bed. Cas’ end is approaching, Dean can tell by the tension in his back and the urgency in his grunts but Dean is unable to drop his hand to help himself reach the finish line at the same time.

“Cas,” he groans, nearly crushed under Cas’ weight as he presses Dean into the mattress, “please, I’m- I can’t…” Cas growls, legit growls and Dean fucking _loves_ it, his back arching off the bed as Cas finally reaches down and wraps his hand around Dean’s cock. His grip is tight and Dean’s helpless, shaking under the weight of the orgasm barreling down on him. “Cas! _Cas!!_ ” Cas snaps his hips up hard, grinding into Dean as he comes and Dean snaps, spilling over Cas’ fist and both their stomachs as Cas empties inside him.

They both float for a few minutes, sharing kisses, whispered affirmations. Eventually, Cas slides out, pressing soft kisses in apology over Dean’s skin as he winces from the empty feeling. Slowly, Cas lowers Dean’s legs, massaging the cramped muscles, fingers trailing down to his injured calf. A warmth washes over his skin and the wound heals fully, Cas’ lips tracing where it used to be.

And so it goes, Cas worships Dean’s skin, slowly and methodically healing his wounds with light touches and whispers of devotion until Dean has completely melted into the mattress and Cas’ arms. This is only the second time Cas has done this, so openly worshipped Dean that it breaks through the protective shell he’s built around himself. It’s pure worship; even with all his flaws and troubles an angel deems him worthy of devotion. Dean threads his hands through Cas’ hair as Cas finishes his praise, the last of the blood cleaned away, and the only marks left on his skin those that Cas himself made. Their eyes meet, Cas leaning over Dean with a soft smile on his face.

“Talk pious to me, baby,” Dean smirks, a little breathless. Last time Dean argued that he wasn’t worth Cas treating him like that but this time, watching Cas’ face light up at Dean’s acceptance, is beyond worth just giving in and thinking that yeah, maybe Dean Winchester does deserve to be loved.

“Do you want to rest?” Cas asks, pressing a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

“Yeah, for a bit. Your weird blood kink kinda wore me out.” Dean rolls into his side, tucking himself around Cas as the big spoon.

“I assure you, it’s not a kink,” Cas mumbles, his neck flushing red as Dean chuckles and presses a kiss to the skin. “I was just…trying to assure myself you were okay.”

“I’m good, sweetheart.” Dean pulls Cas tighter against him, breathing deep and taking in the petrichor scent of him. “I’ve got you, of course I’m good.” Dean reaches down and grabs the blanket, covering the two of them up and cocooning them in warmth. He can feel his eyes getting heavy, sleep calling to him, but he doesn’t want to miss this soft afterglow moment with Cas.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever do that again.” Dean smiles, nosing in behind Cas’ ear with a chuckle. Cas shies away like it's tickling him, but there’s a ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips.

“You know I’m going to, just like I know you’ll forgive me, and we’ll fuck like rabbits afterwards.”

“I assure you, the way we make love is not-“

“Cas,” Dean rolls Cas over into his back, smiling down at him, “don’t ever change.” Cas smiles, a soft shine in his eyes.

They’re both startled at a loud knock on the door.

“If you two are done being disgusting, we’ve got some food waiting in the kitchen,” Sam calls. There’s a laugh in his voice that Dean finds irritating.

“Fuck off, asshole,” Dean shouts. Sam walks off with a laugh, and Dean looks down at Cas. “Guess our moment’s over?”

“We’ll have more,” Cas hums, taking Dean by the chin and drawing him into a soft kiss. Cas pulls away before Dean can dive deeper.

“Alright but next time, I’m driving.” Dean whimpers at the flash of desire in Cas’ eyes.

“If you’re sure you can handle it.” Cas smirks as he climbs out of bed and Dean huffs a satisfied sigh, making no secret of watching Cas get dressed. 

“You know,” Dean follows Cas out of bed, tucking himself in close, knowing his nudity would affect Cas. “I did just take out a whole pack of wolves. Betcha I can handle one little angel.” Cas just smiles, tugging himself out of Dean’s grasp and moving towards the door.

“You wish.”


End file.
